


The Butterfly Effect

by of-witches-and-ink (deliriousLycan)



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Neglect, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Good Guy Boris (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Henry is a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Joey Drew being a Jerk, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Shenanigans, he's here to save the day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-03-06 08:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriousLycan/pseuds/of-witches-and-ink
Summary: After so many journeys through the studio, repeating again and again, Henry is tired. He's ready for things to change, to end.He's about to learn, however, that all it takes is one little difference to set off a chain reaction.





	1. breaking old habits

Henry passes through the halls, staring blankly ahead at the writing on the walls that he’s seen far too many times now. It’s the 578th loop he’s been through now. It had taken far too many loops for him to finally begin remembering what was happening, and at this point he passes through the loops within a series of what couldn’t be more than ten hours, and that was on a longer run through. Those were when he took his time.

He’s discovered the more he tried to rush through things, the more danger he put himself into unnecessarily. The more things that were capable of triggering him, even if unintentional.

On the second loop, Sammy sneaking up on him had caused him to go into a full on panic as he suddenly felt like he was in a distorted version of a battlefield. The floor of the studio was the only thing that had remained, but the rest of his surroundings had turned into nothing but bloody carnage and cloth snared in barbed wire. It said a lot about his state of mind that he was screaming when he came to over things that had occured in his past, rather than the fact he was stuck in a studio he’d once worked at and was at the time unaware he was stuck in a time warp. It said something about his state of mind that Sammy had actually drawn back, startled, at how frantically Henry had panicked. As if, on some base instinctual level, he was aware that that was different than how the scenario was supposed to go.

So now, he walks. He waits. Constantly feeling watched, he often finds himself looking into the eyes of the various Bendy figures, cutouts, and posters all along the world he’s now in. Sometimes, when he’s close enough to them, he’ll pause to trail fingers along the edges of the face. It’s a peculiar habit he’s picked up, especially with the amount of times the demon has killed him now. Despite that, he knows at his core that it isn’t the creature’s fault it’s the way it is. It’s Joey Drew- it’s always been Joey Drew, the cause of all his pains this entire time. First taking his own creations from him without credit or mercy, and then to bring this twisted version of something he loved so dearly into the world…

Henry hadn’t even realized he’d frozen where he was, the back of his knuckles resting against the cheek of the Devil Darling. He smiled wryly at the cutout of his old friend, as that is what Bendy was, wasn’t it? Someone Henry had put little bits and pieces of himself into whilst creating him. Someone who he’d confided in, even if it seemed a little silly to do so.

Stepping away finally, he carried on his way, unbeknownst to the fact something had crept from the shadows behind him, watching as he went. Bendy had felt the heartbeat found only in the ripples thrown through the ink by the Creator, and had approached with the intent to kill. However, he’d given pause at the sight of the human paused in front of one of his cutouts. He’d seemed lost in deep thought, hand suspended in the air and pressed against the face of the smiling demon. Then he had smiled, made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, and moved away to continue whatever journey he seemed intent to follow. The ease in which he maneuvered the halls, the tired weight of his shoulders, piqued the demon’s curiosity.

You see, Bendy was aware that _something_ was off about the studio, more-so than its inhabitants and appearance. He had a clinging feeling of deja-vu more often than not, but with the way Henry traveled slowly but with purpose, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than mere feeling. With his interest now fully captured, Bendy submerged himself into the ink, deciding to simply watch and wait what the human would do.

 

* * *

 

Henry swung his ax with a practiced ease, watching as the Searcher splattered from the force of the hit. It was the last of a horde of them that he’d known very well were going to pop out after he left Sammy’s sanctuary. Their sudden appearance always causes his adrenaline to skyrocket, even when he’s completely aware they’re about to make an entrance. Something about the sounds they make always puts him on edge, reminding him too much of the agonized moans of shrapnel-laden young men who were too soon to join with the ever growing number of corpses. Everything about the studio as it stands now is a constant reminder of his service, more so than anything he’d faced since coming back to the states.

His nightmares, on the rare occasion he managed to find somewhere moderately safe enough to sleep and recover, were now horrid amalgamations of bomb shells, gunfire, and rivers of blood and _ink._ He’s lost count of how many times he’s found himself dreaming of running through never-ending halls, cheerful whistling echoing around him almost drowned out by red flashes and bone rattling explosions. He’ll turn his head where a fellow soldier is shot down, only for their corpse to morph into a Searcher made up of dark, black tar blood. Turning from someone he’d fought alongside, into something he had to kill or be killed by.

Leaving from the projection room and making his way to the infirmary, he jolted as a Bendy cutout peeked out before pulling back. Odd, there usually wasn’t a cutout appearance right here. Feeling unnerved, he made his way into the room and completely bypassed the broken pipe, going straight to the sewers in order to get the valve handle from Jack. It hadn’t taken but a few loops for him to start referring to the swollen Searcher as Jack. After listening to the audio log in the little alcove within the sewer, and the fact he’d only ever seen this Searcher within the sewers, it made sense for it to be him.

He made pause to look through the grate where he’d usually see the looming shadow of Bendy, but he suddenly feels uneasy as he realizes the shadow isn’t there like it is every other time. It’s usually not gone until after he’s had to unfortunately crush Jack beneath the crate lift.

Henry hurries about what he has to do quickly, not wanting to linger much longer since this loop seems to be different than the ones before now. He’s not sure what’s changed, but the Ink Demon is behaving more erratically than before. Before, he’d only ever see Bendy once before Sammy attempts to sacrifice him. Now, however, with it moving and interacting more than usual, he doesn’t want to risk an early death. Making his way to Sammy’s office and draining the stairwell, he isn’t sure he wants to get knocked in the head this time. However, it’s best to get everything over with, and he makes his way out. Idly, he wonders what would happen if he just… moved. This loop is already so different by just a few details, might as well see how much he can screw it up.

It’s with that in mind that when he hears the slightest bit of movement behind him as he walks towards the stairwell, he swings himself out of the way as Sammy misses him entirely. The ink-corroded man takes pause, swinging his masked face around to face Henry and stare for just a moment.

 **“That face… you look, familiar…”** It’s a line Henry’s heard him say many times before, but never before he’s tied down at his mercy, and it’s _never_ the first thing he says. Henry smiles wryly, nodding as he dodges another attack. Sammy shakes his head in confusion, a hand going up to rub at a temple before he turns back to him.

“That’s because I know who you are, Sammy Lawrence. We were friends, once,” Henry says, swinging around as he struck out again. He hears Sammy hiss out, a sharp whistle between his teeth.

 **“Silence, sheep! You’re lies mean nothing to me, for I am the Prophet to our Lord. He will free me from this prison that I have been cursed with!”** Sammy shouts suddenly, and Henry ducks to avoid a swipe at his head. He tackles him, getting behind him and pinning his arms to his side.

He waits for Sammy’s thrashing to ease and then stop altogether before he speaks again. “Listen to me, Sammy. Your lord, the Ink Demon, Bendy, whatever you want to call him… he’s going to kill you. You won’t be free because your soul isn’t allowed to leave this place! No one’s is, not yet. He’s as trapped as we are.”

Henry feels the figure in his arms start shaking violently, and something wet drips onto his arm. Hearing a wet gasp come from the creature who was his friend so many years ago, he held him closer at the realization he was crying. **“I… I just want to go home. Why won’t He let me go?”**

Having no answer, he just rocks slightly in an effort to provide any amount of comfort and hums an old song from when they were all still young and felt alive. Gently, he pulls away from being behind him and stoops down to eye level with his old friend. “I’m trying to find a way out of here, to- to fix this all. I’m trying to find a way to set _everyone_ free. Come with me, Sammy. It might takes us a while, but… we’ll get out of this.”

The Prophet looks at the hand Henry holds out for him to get to his feet, staring for a moment and seeming to have a war within his own mind before he reaches out and takes it. **“If… if you truly believe we can do it without our Lord, then I’ve nothing left to lose.”**

And from the shadows, as two friends reunited walk side by side into the lower levels, Bendy watches the entire encounter through the eyes of his cutouts.


	2. dreams come true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Boris and Sammy find themselves curious over Henry's intuitive attitude towards things, and the boys in Heavenly Toys get an unwanted welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 12/14/2019: Edited for consistency and detail.

Henry and Sammy are both sitting in a room Henry himself is already far too familiar with- the room in which the music director had attempted to sacrifice him too many times to feel comfortable with. Apparently, when he wasn’t prophesying the unspoken words of the Ink Demon, he had still been writing music. He played many of them for Henry, with a violin he’d pulled from the side room. They were all beautiful, though tainted with a melancholic tone that had rarely been present before the Ink had taken hold of him. Henry told stories of when they worked together, and felt real hope brimming just beneath the surface of his tired heart when Sam would pitch in as certain memories would get jogged. The more fragmented memories the man brought up from deep within his soul, the more natural his words felt too. Less like a worshiping madman, and more like the person Henry had once known.

Of course, there are still some events that have to play through, and he watches as Sammy tenses up, eyes going to the pipes running along the edges of the ceiling. **“He’s coming, Henry. I can hear Him.”**

Henry is quick to get to his feet, as the inky veins start creeping into the edges of his vision. He says, “We need to open that panel, and now!”

Sammy catches onto what he says immediately, and drops into the ink as he runs into the side room. Bouncing back up, he slams the lever to open the section of walling. He hears something heavy drop to the ground behind him, and he turns just briefly to see the Ink Demon has dropped down behind him and is shuffling it’s way towards him at an alarming speed. If the ink touches him from the demon, he’ll die. With that in mind, he runs back to Henry, who grabs his hand and practically drags him through the door. He speeds through with an uncanny sense of direction, and Sammy only wonders briefly how much ease Henry has shown in knowing how to respond to situations.

Bendy is hot on their heels, and Sammy can _feel_ his own ink beginning to destabilize and boil. It hurts, and he realizes Henry was right- in his twisted illusion of prayer, he’d never realized that the Ink Demon would _kill_ him.

Henry shoves him forward through a door and slams it behind himself as he jumps through, and they can hear an enraged screech from the other side as the demon begins pounding on it relentlessly. Sammy, having fallen over from the shove, takes Henry’s hand when he holds it out to him and makes his way back up to his feet. Then, before he can say anything, Henry is looking to the hall ahead of them as if waiting for something.

A can of bacon soup rolls out towards him, and Henry stops it with his boot. Sammy feels another presence in the room with them, and is about to say something when Henry smiles softly. “You can come out, we won’t hurt you.”

Not even a moment later, a Boris steps into view. He’s different though, and Sammy realizes why- he has the signature aura of being one of the first Boris clones created. This Boris is perfect, whole in a way that very few toons within the studio achieve. Sammy wonders who he was before all of this. Henry doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest to seeing the toon, in fact he actually seems to have a sad tilt to his smile as he greets him.

The wolf smiles at Henry, but looks apprehensively over at Sammy. It’s with no hesitation that Henry puts a hand on his shoulder, nodding at Boris. “He’s with me, he’s safe. I promise.”

It seems to be enough, because then he’s smiling again and gestures for them to follow him. Sammy is surprised at the faith and conviction in the words Henry said. He truly believed in him. It's touching in a way he's unfamiliar with.

Boris leads them through a maze of structures and walls towards another door. It seems to be a safe-house, and Boris leads Henry to a backroom and gestures for him to lay down on the little cot in what appears to be a bedroom. The old man is clearly exhausted, and goes down with no protest at all. It’s not long before he’s deep in sleep.

Stepping back out of the room, Boris sits down in one of the table chairs and waves his hand for Sammy to sit across from him. He sits down hesitantly, watching as the wolf leans back in his seat and looks over him. Feeling studied, he fiddles with a playing card on the table. Boris grabs a notebook and pencil from a crate beside him, and writes something down before turning it around for Sammy to read.

 _You are the Ink Demon’s Prophet, aren’t you?_ He reads, and sighs with a nod.

 **“Or, I suppose, _was_ would be more apt to say. I can still hear Him when He is near, but… Much of it was delusional ramblings. Henry was able to jar a good bit of my memories, but there are still gaps. There are still moments where I will slip into speaking the word of our Lord.” **As he speaks, Boris takes the notebook back and seems to think about what he’s going to say in response.

_Henry seems to know more than what he’s letting on. I can’t help but get this feeling I’ve met him before, and he seems like he already knows me as well. Beyond being my Creator._

Sammy lets that sink in, and nods slowly. **“I… I had originally planned to, well, it doesn’t matter. The point I’m making is that when we first met down here, he knew I was behind him. He knows the layout of the levels, too. He… He knew to come to where you were, when we were being pursued by the Ink Demon.”**

It’s silent for a few moments more, Boris deep in thought as he thinks of what to write next. _We will let it be for the time being, but should he seem to continue knowing things he should not, we will ask him. Perhaps there is a reason behind it that we are unaware of ourselves._

Sammy nods, and they settle on that as a plan for the time being.

 

* * *

 

Henry wakes up to the sound of exasperated groaning, and is confused at first because he doesn’t remember ever waking up to noises in Boris’ safe-house. It takes a moment for the events of the current cycle to catch up with his sleep-addled mind, but when they do he heaves a soft sigh. Standing up, he doesn’t even bother walking to the door before he starts gathering some cans of soup to make for the three of them.

When he walks out into the main room, he sees Sammy and Boris engrossed in a riveting game of _Go Fish!_ Laughing softly, he grins at them when they glance up. He sets the cans balanced in his arms on the counter, getting the stove up and running before opening the cans up and pouring their goop-y contents into the pot. Boris smiles up at him, or _beams_ really.

Just to not seem _too_ suspicious, Henry makes a point to glance up at the door and tilts his head. “Is the door missing the lever to open it?”

Boris’ smile dips a bit, somewhat guiltily, but he nods. Henry is far from being upset, and makes sure to nod to the wolf so that he won’t look so much like someone kicked him as a pup. He brightens up immediately, and then Henry is setting out bowls of soup for he and Boris.

Sammy looks at it distastefully as they dig in, his mask pulled to the side to reveal a completely empty face. It’s the main reason Henry hadn’t given him a bowl of his own- he didn’t have a mouth to eat with. If memory proves correctly, though, Sammy wouldn’t have eaten it even if he was two seconds from starving. Henry has no such ramifications, having eaten many things that were even worse during his time in the service. There also reaches a point after an indeterminate amount of time eating the exact same thing where you develop an immunity to it.

Looking from Sammy to Boris, Henry feels a sudden surge of energy that had faded out since becoming stuck in the studio. Things are already different, and he has a good feeling that maybe, just maybe, this will go good for once. He spontaneously knocks three times on the wooden table leg, just to be sure he doesn’t jinx them accidentally. Sammy tilts his head at him, raising an inky brow at the other man.

“Just a superstitious old man, letting my thoughts get the better of me. So! Boris, you have the lever for the door? We should probably get moving soon, lots of ground to cover and things to do,” he says, and Boris’ ears prick up excitedly as he hands over the toolbox with the lever inside. Henry finishes up his soup, then stands and fixes the door. Walking back over to the other two, he sits back down and waits for Boris to finish licking his bowl(and Henry’s bowl too.)

It’s too soon they’re all walking through the door, Sammy shouldering a bag of soup cans that Boris had handed him. Boris leads the way, which is nothing unusual for Henry. He follows right behind him, grabbing the flashlight when the reach the darkened room. Sammy stares into the darkness and sighs, readjusting the bag so that it wouldn’t fall off and he pulled open a drawer to pull out _another_ flashlight and wow, Henry never knew that was there. Oddly enough, he didn’t usually think to open up the various cabinet drawers unless he felt like they might have something he needed. Now he wonders, how many knick-knacks would have helped him out from the start if he’d ravaged them when he had the chance?

They make it to Level K soon enough, and Henry bids Boris good luck as he crawls through the Gent vent, leaving Sammy and Henry to navigate Heavenly Toys on their own. Regardless of how many times he’s been through the sector, it’s always a bit of awe when he takes in the sheer size of the entry room. The fountain of ink, the toys, if it weren’t so worn down he can imagine it was beautiful when it was in its prime.

Suddenly, he realizes that he has a friend with him who was likely there when this room was built. “What was Joey’s inspiration behind an entire toy factory deep underground?”

Sammy jolts, having gotten used to them walking in silence, before shrugging. **“I’m not entirely sure. I do know that he had a much larger vision than our budget allowed. Employee’s were getting paid late, and salary cuts were getting thrown about left and right. He had Heavenly Toys built about five years after you left.”**

Suddenly, Sammy was grabbing Henry’s hand and dragging them both to the Little Miracle Station as inky veins shot out from the floor around the fountain. Cramming themselves into the little box, pressed against each other chest to chest, they watched as the Ink Demon crawled out of the inkwell and dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Both could hear the off-beat footsteps coming closer, and Henry swallowed as Bendy stopped right in front of their hiding place. Slowly, _deliberately,_ it tilted its head towards them before turning full-body to face them. Despite not having visible eyes, Henry knew they were making direct eye contact. It was looking at _him._

It stepped closer, coming to a stop just outside of the station and putting its larger hand on the side of it, scratching down with an awful sound of protesting wood. Sammy lets out an involuntary whimper, and Henry can hear him start to pray under his breath for forgiveness from the Demon. The grin widens sadistically, and Henry holds onto the handle from the inside just a little bit tighter as he narrows his eyes at Bendy.

“You know something’s wrong too, don’t you?” he asks experimentally, and the sudden silence from both Sammy and Bendy was deafening. The vile whispering that was even worse for Sammy, who could _understand_ them, hushed. The Demon draws back, tilting its head to the side as if curious. Its smile twitched, and Henry felt somewhat emboldened. “It’s not time for you yet, and you know it. You’re afraid of what I’m doing, aren’t you?”

Opening its mouth for the first time, Henry uses all of his mental restraint to not panic when Bendy lets out an enraged shriek and charges at the Little Miracle Station, but his hands only slam against the walls behind it as his face hovers in front of the gap. Sammy groans in agony from the pressure the Ink is putting on his body, trying to make him return to the Puddles, but the station slows the process enough for him to pull himself together. He briefly ponders if Henry is absolutely insane, but then realizes that may or may not be somewhat hypocritical of him. Even now, he has an ingrained desire to drop to his knees at the feet of his Lord, and yet his recently rediscovered rational side is telling him exactly why that’s a ridiculous and also idiotic idea. The stare-down between Henry and Bendy lasts for another minute, easily, before the Demon backs down.

Slinking back to the fountain, Sammy takes a deep breath as the whispers and energized Ink fades away as Bendy truly does leave for the time being. When they step out of the station, Sammy takes one second to come to terms with the fact they both almost _died_ before he rounds on Henry.

 **“What the** **_hell_ ** **was that, Stein? What were you on about with it not being time for him? He’s** **_always_ ** **listening! He’s always** **_watching!_ ** **He doesn’t have a schedule, there isn’t a time clock for Demons!”** He pushes the other man back as he rants, and Henry catches himself. A dark look crosses over his face at the shove, but he quickly smooths it out into something neutral.

“I’ll explain it all soon, Sam, I promise. Right now, though, we need to get the toy machine running again. Hopefully, we won’t get anymore surprise visits from the locals,” Henry says, and Sammy relents at the promise of having it explained soon at the very least. 

Sammy watches him very closely after that, though, and just the same as always he knows exactly what to do to fix the toy machine and get it running, and how to move the shelves to reveal the door.

Yes, Henry has quite a lot to explain when they meet back up with Boris.


	3. explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sammy sees an old friend, Henry explains the timelines, and Bendy gets some food for thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 12/12/2019 for timeline and detail mistakes. The end of this chapter has also been rewritten.

The meeting with Alice is… interesting, to say the least. There’s about ten percent more screeching from her than usual, and Henry isn’t sure whether to count that as progress or not.

“You’ve brought the **Ink Demon’s Prophet into** _my realm?”_ She screams at Henry when she realizes Sammy is beside him. He winces at her volume- between the multiple voices speaking at once and her rapidly changing tone, he’s sure he’ll be deaf before this loop is even halfway through.

Sammy’s eyeless face droops into an expression of despair as parts of her voice settle in. **“Oh my Lord, Susie? What on earth has he done to you?”**

 _“Susie? Susie_ hasn’t been around for a **long time, Heathen!** **_I’m Alice Angel!_ ** Susie wasn’t _good_ **enough anymore!”** She cries out, and Henry puts a comforting hand on Sammy’s arm as he sees her face to face for the first time. Sammy knew of the Angel, of course, he’d heard Him whisper of her cowardice and treachery more often than not. He knew that He absolutely despised her, but he had no idea that she had been born from Susie.

He felt ink-sludged memories dredged up from deep within his mind; coffee breaks between himself, Susie, and Jack as they went over the latest pieces for current episode projects. Sammy recalled Susie coming down to his office and sitting beside him and just watching as he wrote sheets of music and listened when he played them out in return for feedback. She had been one of the only people he could stand being in the room with him when he was working, she and Norman- and Jack, but he was usually holed up in the sewers somewhere.

She had continued her scripted monologue as Sammy had went through all of these memories, and Henry had slipped a hand along his inner elbow, a solid grip to help ground him. He appreciated it, and tuned back in to hear Alice preaching about Henry(and Sammy, by extension) proving himself worthy to walk with angels or something along those lines. Sammy couldn’t listen too intently, the sound of Susie’s voice still grating his emotions.

Henry kept pulling him along, until they reached a fork in the halls. There were crudely made signs pointing to each hall, one with **Angel** written on it, the other inscribed with **Demon.** To the right, the Angel’s path, there were candles lighting the entire area, with furniture and a soft aura. To the left, there was immediately a hallway of ink.

Henry moved to the left, much to Sammy’s surprise. When Sammy questioned the decision, he just shrugged. “I’d rather go the Demon’s route and know what I’m getting than to go along with her and get back-stabbed by her unpredictable ass.”

If Sammy didn’t know any better, he’d swear Henry muttered “..again,” at the end of his explanation. However, he couldn’t argue with the logic behind the reasoning- as much as it hurts him knowing what’s become of his dear friend, she seems more than a little bit unstable.

They wade through the ink flood in the Demon’s hallway, and Henry’s grip on his ax tightens ever so slightly. Moving quickly, Sammy hears the whispers grow stronger for a brief moment, before fading back out into silence. He hopes Henry really does know what he’s talking about.

 

* * *

 

After two close run-ins with Bendy, and half a dozen Searchers, they make their way to the Lift where Boris is waiting for the two of them. Henry grins, pulling the wolf into a hug and then steps back to choose the floor they need to go to.

Sammy jolts when Alice suddenly speaks over the intercoms, declaring Henry as ‘interesting and different’ and deciding he’ll be allowed to live. Henry rolls his eyes when she says, “looks like **you’ve** got a date with an _angel!”_

When they get to her floor, Boris lopes out to lead the way towards where she’s hiding. Sammy’s nearly at the gate from her door when he gets an awful nauseous feeling and drops to his knees. Henry stops and kneels down beside him, concern lacing his voice as he asks if he’s okay. Alice cackles over the intercom, before explaining what’s happening.

“It’s my wards! Nothing of the **Demon’s is allowed across my threshold,** _and he’s the Demon’s Prophet!_ Looks like it’s just you and Boris!” Henry stands back up as she finishes speaking, and helps Sammy to his feet. He looks over at Boris, whose expression is nervous and concerned.

“I’m gonna take him back to the lift, don’t go in there without me, okay? Please,” he says, stressing how important it is for them to stick together. While he doesn’t think the Angel would take Boris so early on, as it’s not a part of the original timeline, this loop has proven to be drastically different and he doesn’t want to press his luck. Boris nods to him, though, and he sighs in relief as the wolf not only doesn’t go further, but follows them back to the Lift. He gets on Sammy’s other side and helps him stumble his way inside.

Stepping back out of the lift, Henry watches as the gate to the lift closes and sighs. Then, he says to Sammy, “Make sure you stay inside the lift and recover from her wards. As long as you’re inside the lift and the gates stay closed, you’re safe.”

Sammy nods, watching as Henry and Boris take back off to meet with Alice. The ache in his head eases slowly, and he sighs as he stares through the lift gate. It’s going to be a long wait.

After about fifteen minutes, Boris comes back with a haunted look on his face. He sits down in the corner of the lift opposite of Sammy, resting his head on his knees. Sammy gets up and shuffles over to him, sitting back down side by side. **“Are you alright, Boris?”**

It takes him a good few moments to respond, but when he does it’s with a sigh and a shrug. He makes a sign over his heart, miming pulling it out of his chest, and then makes an X with his index fingers and holds them over his face. Sammy figures out what he’s referring to almost immediately, and pulls him into a loose hug. Bendy had expressed rage at the Angel’s killing of the Boris clones, in an attempt to make herself ‘perfect.’ He can only imagine what it must have been like to see piles of your own corpse mutilated horribly.

In an attempt to take the toon’s mind off what he’d seen, Sammy starts telling stories of the few things he remembers- namely, Henry being off the cob and never knowing when to stop working. The mention of his Creator being stressed out but always willing to put the time into both his creations and his friends and coworkers brings him out of his slump much faster than he would have alone.

Sammy also finds it important to tell Boris that Henry will be explaining some things to them both soon, and how Henry had actually spoken to the Ink Demon and He had backed down. Boris’ eyes widen when he tells him exactly what Henry had said, as well. Sammy nods at his expression, smiling wryly. **“I called him out on it, as well. He said he’d explain it once we were all reunited. If she doesn’t kill him, that is…”**

 

* * *

 

Henry leaves for the lift after being assigned the first task of this loop. Opening the gate and stepping in, he greets Sammy and Boris tiredly. They’re both staring at him expectantly, and he sighs.

“Let’s get upstairs to Heavenly Toys, and then I’ll talk. I have to do some tasks for her in exchange for my life," he says, rolling his eyes. A perfectly normal response to bargaining for your life.

Hitting the button for Level K, the three waited patiently before all of them left the lift. Boris normally wouldn’t have, but Henry had some explaining to do and he didn’t want to be on the lift while he spoke. They went up to Shawn’s office tucked behind the rack of toys, and settled down there. Henry is silent for a long moment, staring at his hands where they sit on the desk.

Sammy and Boris wait patiently as he collects his thoughts, and he sighs. “I’ve been through the Studio 578 times before now that I can remember… No matter how many times I reach the End, no matter how hard I’ve tried to save everyone, or hell, even just a handful of folks, it just, repeats. I’m not sure what the hell Joey did to make it possible, but I’ve been trying to break the story for... for forever, it feels like. Maybe even longer, because there are some loops I just don’t remember going through.”

Sammy frowns, it makes sense(does it? Does it really?) However, he asks, **“How can we be sure you aren’t lying?”**

Henry smiles bitterly, looking up and meeting his eyes. “I can prove I’m not lying because when we met this loop, you were originally planning on knocking me unconscious and sacrificing me to Bendy in an attempt to free yourself from the _inky, dark abyss you call a body.”_

Sammy feels the ink in his veins run cold as Henry repeats words directly from his own thoughts. Boris seems just as shocked, and Henry sighs. “This loop has been the most change I’ve ever seen, and I’m hoping, _banking_ on the script that Drew has written for us is becoming unstable. I _am_ curious how things will go in the village of Lost Ones, however.”

Boris tilts his head in interest, and Sammy lets out a disbelieving chuckle. **“You really are telling the truth, huh… there’s no way you could know of the village, not yet at least.”**

Sammy suddenly lets out a hiss as ink spirals out in jagged lines over the wall behind them. They sprint out of the office, and Henry makes sure Sammy and Boris make it to the lift before he runs to where all the parts Alice needs are. He knows where they are at this point(mostly. He knows the three spots they randomly switch between, at least.) As he grabs the last one he sees Bendy shuffling towards him. The Demon lets out a shriek as he suddenly goes into an unholy speed of chase and Henry books it towards the lift. Sammy slams the Gate closed when Henry baseball slides in, just as Bendy’s arm reaches through the slats, and he throws himself back out of its reach. Boris is folded in over himself in terror, but Henry is starts laughing. Somewhat manically. Sammy stares at him in concern, wondering how many screws have just spontaneously wiggled loose in his head. Bendy paces along the outside edges of the lift, looking all for the world like a caged lion despite the fact they were the ones in a cage. A safe cage, but a cage nonetheless.

Mostly, Bendy is staring at Henry, who is only just now managing to calm himself down to a reasonable state of  _not laughing_ in the face of inevitable doom.

The Demon stares for a moment longer, before inclining its head its Prophet, smile tilting curiously. Dangerously.  **_You walk alongside,,.,a Traitor?_ **

Sammy breathes in deeply to calm his rapid-fire heart, then shakes his head. **“No. I walk alongside an old friend… I believe there is more to this story than meets the eye, my Lord.”**

Bendy shrieks, a sound that makes Henry’s blood run ice cold and every hair stand on end. The fact his mouth never moves during it all is all the more unsettling.  ** _He abandoned the studio! He abandoned us for a woman, and for a damnable war, while we were left to rot. You think that's fair?_**

Boris whimpers, and Henry watches the entire exchange in confusion. Bendy is clearly speaking to Sammy, but he can’t hear the demon’s voice at all. Perhaps it has something to do with the Ink. He watches as Bendy’s smile twitches at the sound Boris makes, and Sammy’s resolve strengthens at the fear his newfound friend feels. **“Enough! You sound _just_ like Drew.** **”**

The silence that settled over the four of them was almost worse than the unnatural shrieking. Bendy's smile stretched larger, and he tilted his head to the side. Sammy stares him down, ignoring the fact that his legs are about to give out beneath him. From fear or to pray, or perhaps both, he isn't sure. He decides while there's silence, he's going to push his point. 

 **"What's done is done. He left, for _whatever_ his reasons were, and now he's back, and he's as trapped as the rest of us. Fighting each other isn't going to  _fix_ that," **he says slowly, watching as Henry stands up in the corner of his vision. The old man seems like he's about to speak himself, eyes narrowed at the Demon. 

"I was forced to leave, Bendy. I was drafted as an able-bodied adult man. The only reason I left before I was mandated to, was because I wanted to spend some time with my wife before I was possibly sent to my _death,"_ Henry explains, before he leans over and rolls the left leg of his pants up to the knee. Bendy lets out a hiss, and Sammy mumbles a curse under his breath.

From the knee down, Henry's leg is a mess of red burns and scar tissue. All of them are old, somewhat faded, but the damage was done. It at least explained the limp the old man had. "Shrapnel from being too close to a grenade. I'm lucky I didn't lose my leg. I was bound to crutches for months, but it was busted. I couldn't serve anymore, so they sent me home."

He sighs, rolling the leg back down before standing back up. "I debated coming back to the Studio, but after the way Joey had treated me? The way he treated  _everyone?_ I wanted nothing to do with him. It had nothing to do with the studio itself, it was always  _him._ Make of that what you will."

The Demon would have been narrowing its eyes if it had them, and he hissed again, but it sounded conflicted. It was still angry, granted, and Sammy knew that if he wasn't careful he was going to be making a quick dunk into the puddles, but they had his attention. They had him  _thinking._

He lets out a grumbling noise before backing up from the elevator. He turns his gaze from Henry back to Sammy and growls. _**Watch your tongue. You're lucky you're right.**_

With that, he turned and ambled away. Sammy immediately hit the button for Level 9, and dropped to the floor of the lift with a heavy sigh. He turns his masked face up to Henry, who shrugs. "It could have went _worse_."

He's convinced Henry is absolutely mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give all of my love to Kara for being a pal, and also if anyone ever wants to chat feel free to hit me up on tumblr. Same name on there, of-witches-and-ink  
> I'm also unsure of how good the fic itself is, but I'm having fun writing it so hey lmao


	4. dive down deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ink Demon begins to think, the Projectionist is confusing, and Henry wonders if perhaps you truly can't save everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, long time no see! Important to note right off, I rewrote the end of the last chapter and altered some details for consistency. More notes at the end
> 
> EDIT 12/14/2019: Altered for detail, fleshing out, as well as adding in some additional scenes with Sammy inspired by Master_Torch_Master.

_“Drew, you need to keep that thing contained!”_

_The voice, it remembers hearing that voice upon its birth from the Ink Machine…_

_“I assigned it to_ you, _Connor, until I can find a way to either correct its malformity or destroy it. It cannot be that hard to keep the ghastly thing under lock and key!”_

_That voice, it also knows that voice. It’s the voice of the Creator. The one who made it. Joey Drew, that is the name of this voice. The first voice… Thomas. It knows these things. It thinks it should know more, but it does not. It grows bored of their argument, and knowing that their ire is about it._

_It stands, shambling through the wall even as the voice of Thomas explains to Joey that_ that thing _can walk through walls._

_It thinks it would like to make new friends, if they do not run like they usually do. It doesn’t have any friends. It thinks it’s supposed to, but it doesn’t feel any great sadness at the lack of them. It doesn’t feel much of anything right now._

_The lights flicker as it walks by, and it hears distantly the sound of something scratching across the hardwood floors deeper down, close to the music department. The sound is interesting… yes, interesting sounds right. It moves towards the noise, stumbling and trailing it’s human-esque hand along the wall for stability and guidance. It relies on its hearing and smell when there is nothing living to trail. It can see their life energies pulsing around them when it’s near them, but until it finds them it must rely on baser senses. It cannot see for the ink constantly dripping over its eyes, if it even has eyes. It doesn’t much care, as this is its nature._

_As it gets closer to the sound, it begins to see the fuzzy outline of some unique color alongside it. It walks up to it, making a sound to let the pretty color light know it’s there._

_Immediately it hears a clattering noise, and the sound of someone muffling a scream. It recoils, not intending to scare even though that is all it ever seems to do. It waits for this one to run like they always do, but they don’t._

_“Now, I know I’m prone to seein’ shit, but what the hell are you?” They ask, and their voice has a funny accent. The voice isn’t the one that_ always _sees, but it still has a silly lilt. It tilts its head curiously? Yes, it feels curious! That’s new! It hasn’t felt curious before, at least not like this._

 _The voice speaks again. “Ya kinda look like…. Nah, that’s impossible, yeah? Ya just kinda look like if someone threw Bendy in a Blender. Heheh,_ Blendy!” 

 _It perks up at the name, chuffing at the awful pun. It hasn’t heard a joke like that before. Has it_ ever _heard a joke?_ _The voice seems to notice its reaction. “Well shit, you_ are _Bendy, aren’t ya?”_

 _It nods very slowly. It thinks it is_ supposed _to be Bendy, at least. The light of the voice starts moving away, pausing to turn towards it and gesture it to follow. “I feel like I might just be going a bit off the rails, but ya haven’t tried to kill me so I’m assuming that’s not your intention. Name’s Wally, by the way! I’m the Janitor around here, and I was getting ready to go on my lunch break. Ever had a sandwich?”_

* * *

The Ink Demon rouses from its rest with a snarl, shaking his head to dispel the memories from before. Ink splatters on the walls around him from his sharp movements, and he stands to resume his stalking. 

The words of his Prophet had hurt, and he's already quite familiar with pain, thank you. He knows many things now, truly, many feelings. He’s learned much in the years since his creation. Very few of them have been good things.

Bendy did not like being compared to Joey, and the cutting words that had dropped from Sammy, of all people, had hit like acetone. Since then, he’s been boiling over with memories from when everyone was still _alive._ Sure, their souls may still be tangibly present, but this… this wasn’t living. 

Most people despised him, and he found little reason to fault them for that. His appearance, while he could not see himself, he could feel the aches and pains of a malformed body, an unnatural body, and he could catch glimpses through the eyes of his own memorabilia. The hurt of his form often paired delightfully with his constant rage at anything living. 

Despite his hatred of his own violent nature, he _cannot_ feel anything other than pain, rage, and anguish. He envies those with the capacity to feel greater things; those with the ability to feel anything aside from apathy and rage, able to coincide with each other outside of misery.

It does no good to think of these things though. Bendy is quite certain it is impossible to change his nature. He pointedly ignores the tiny voice at the very distant back of his mind, whispering that he was close, once. He _wanted_ to be something more than what he was created as. 

As it stands, desires, hopes, dreams, all of those are things that serve to destroy themselves before destroying those that hold them. 

It’s time to push that train of thought aside. Instead, he thinks on what he had overheard the traitor creator speaking to the Boris and his Prophet. Henry had mentioned something about being trapped within a time loop, and something about that rubbed Bendy the wrong way. Henry had also blamed it on Joey, which was absolutely true. If anything goes wrong within the Studio, it can inevitably be blamed upon Joey. 

The Ink Demon lets out an angry roar as he thinks of _Joey._ An unfortunate Searcher that had been in his path popped as his rage sent the ink into a frenzy. It nearly begins to boil around him as he lashes out randomly, striking his claws into the wall and leaving deep gashes that shred the already tattered wallpaper. 

Leave it to Drew to destroy the very essence of how things should be even more so, just for his own gain. The Studio is Joey’s playground, and every single being in it is his pawn. 

 _Now,_ though, now it’s not just _Henry_ in on his little game. Bendy thinks maybe it’s time Joey loses some of the total control he has on other people’s lives. 

Bendy curses as he feels the familiar blinding pain of his cutouts being destroyed, and sets off to make Henry’s life hell. Despite his new knowledge, his is still drawn towards his hunger for blood and his own part to play in this scripted nightmare.

* * *

 

Sammy and Boris are patiently waiting in the lift for Henry to finish collecting the Ink Hearts for Alice. They had finished dealing with the cutouts only an hour prior, and Sammy had gotten to witness as Henry didn’t quite make it to the Miracle station in front of the lift in time just as Bendy had emerged roaring from an inky portal.

The two ink beings within the elevator gates had watched in paralyzed terror as Henry was thoroughly eviscerated before his body was eaten up by the Ink. Bendy had then hissed at Sammy for not explaining to Henry why destroying the cut outs was a very bad idea, before shambling off to new places. 

Five minutes later, a dazed and irritated Henry had walked onto the lift like dying was just a pass-time. 

Sammy had immediately pushed Henry back against the lift gates once they were closed, checking him over for any lingering injuries. There had been so much blood, so much... 

When Sammy pushed away from him, Boris's ears had shot up as he darts to Sammy's side as he began to fall. **"You were, you were _dead._ We watched you die, Henry!"**

Henry sighs and kneels in front of him, eyes soft as he glances up at Boris, who's ears have laid back sadly. He turns back to Sammy, putting a hand on his knee where he sits curled up against the back of the lift. There's not much to be done in the moment, unfortunately, but Henry and Boris would offer as much comfort as they could. 

"I had told you that, Sammy... I'm, for what it's worth I'm sorry you, the _both_ of you, had to see it happen though," Henry says, and Sammy looks up at him. His body is trembling, coming down from the panic and then the shock of what they'd just seen. 

 **"Down here, when you die... for most of us, you never know what to expect. Sometimes you come back, maybe a little weaker than before, a little more cautious, but you're fine. Others, they get lost in the Ink, with bodies constantly searching for their own souls still trapped in the puddles,"** he pauses, trying to gather up his thoughts,  **"The rest, though... they're just dead. Not everyone is like you, Henry."**

Henry remained quiet, letting Sammy speak because he needed to. Sammy  _had_ to speak.  **"You just, y-you were so _close!_ You were right there, right in front of us! I think, I think the worst part though... you didn't even scream. I don't think you made any noise at all. I could only hear the whispers, the heartbeat, and... and the sounds."**

Henry had rearranged so the he was sitting cross-legged on Sammy's left, while Boris arranged himself on his right. Dropping an arm around Sammy and setting his hand on Boris's shoulder, the older man stared out of the lift at the Little Miracle Station. It's very essence stared back mockingly as Sammy shuddered beside him.

* * *

It had taken some time just sitting in the lift, silent, before Sammy had sighed and said they needed to move on. There was nothing to be done just sitting there waiting for some creature to terrorize them through the bars.

Now back to the Ink Hearts. Sammy had wanted to help, since he can walk through the ink as well, but Henry had firmly stood his ground on being the only one to enter the Projectionist’s maze. After all, if the Projectionist tears out _Henry’s_ heart the man will just revive at the silver Bendy statue in the corner of the lift room. If he were to tear out Sammy’s, though, there’s no guarantee he’ll return from the puddles. It’s a risk Henry isn’t willing to take, having finally made some progress in breaking the loop. 

It’s during an almost comical mad dash up the stairs, sliding into the railing due to the ink on his boots, and then high tailing it down the other side of the stairs back into the river that things get unique. The Projectionist stops in the middle of the backside of the staircase, looking around in confusion. 

It stomps its feet on the wooden planks of the floor, and then does it again as if shocked. Little splatters of ink fly off of it, but it doesn’t seem to care. Sammy and Boris watch through the grate of the lift as the Projectionist seems entirely, almost childishly, thrilled at stomping its feet and making tiny little circles. 

Henry had just collected the last of the Ink Hearts when he glanced up at the lift, seeing Boris and Sammy staring down at something. Glancing around him for signs of the Projectionist, he made his way to the stairs. Once he was up the first short set, he was met with the sight of the Projectionist stomping around and kicking loose ink off of himself. His eyes widen as the Projectionist suddenly looks up at him with its trademark screech, and Henry darted up the next set of stairs before the Projectionist could catch up. Thankfully, turning around the corner seemed to have disoriented it enough for it to not even see Henry going into the lift. The three of them all shared glances with each other, wondering what had been going through the Projectionist’s mind when it had left the inky river. 

It was still on the wooden platform, walking rather aimlessly now. It would pause, however, as if not sure what to do now. 

 **“Henry, whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t even try it,”** Sammy says, as Henry gets a contemplative look on his face. He rolls his eyes at Sammy, but doesn’t make a move to leave the lift. However, he also doesn’t hit the button for level 9. He’s clearly thinking about _something._

“He’s deaf,” Henry says, and Sammy pauses. There’s something wounded in the way Henry speaks. Sammy desperately tries to remember why the other man would be reacting that way, when the profession clicks into place, and with it a name. The Projectionist is…

 **“Oh… _Norman,”_** Sammy says, breath lifting as his heart drops like stone, and he wonders how he never knew this was where his old friend had ended up. Rather, he wonders how he never realized the Projectionist is Norman. 

Level 14 is one of the few places the Ink Demon doesn’t tread. Sammy was never entirely sure why, except that Bendy held both a caution and a strange sort of respect for the being that dwells in this level. 

Sammy is not ready for the flood of memories now incoming, but that doesn't stop them from sucker-punching him right in the gut. He remembers back before Joey had ruined everything, when Norman would stand at the railing of his office and look down as Sammy lead the band through their routines. How he'd grin and bop his head to the rhythm on particularly snazzy melodies, and how afterwards he'd always walk down to the breakroom with him for lunch. Or dinner. Breakfast. It really depended on what type of crunch they were on. Norman had been a real friend to him, someone he'd confided in when it felt like there was no one else. Susie had also been one of those friends, and the three of them were as thick as thieves during the prime of the Studio. Henry and Wally as well, on the off-chance their schedules actually lined up. Norman had liked to joke that Wally was the eyes on the back of his head, since he couldn't be everywhere at once. 

Henry hits the button for level 9, but Sammy doesn't stop staring at the Projectionist. The man-turned-beast happens to turn and see the lift going up, and lets out that blood-curdling sound once again as they disappear from each other's sight. Sammy turns to Henry finally, who looks so tired. "We're going to do everything we can, Sammy. I promise. _"_  

Sammy nods, letting out a long breath. He says, **"I hope you're right..."**

Then the lift reaches Alice’s floor. Henry frowns, knowing what happens next, but he wonders if there’s a chance he can…

He turns to Sammy and Boris, and pulls the two of them into a loose huddle randomly. It’s become a method of communication between the three of them when they don’t want Alice to hear what they’re saying. 

“When I give her these hearts, she’s probably going to send me back to the lift. If I can’t convince her to come with us, she’s going to drop it while we’re going up,” he pauses, making sure he had their full attention.

“Sammy, I want you to get off the lift and go as far down the stairs as you can, to Grant’s office. Boris, I’m going to need you to trust me on this. When the elevator lands, I will be fine. I’m going to need you to hide as soon as you can, though. Hide in Grant's office. You won't be able to miss it, there's a sign pointing the way and everything.”

Boris looks unsettled by both the foresight and the notion of leaving a potentially injured Henry alone, but Henry has apparently done this song and dance many times over. He can trust him. The wolf nods, and Sammy pitches in. **“If you can’t convince her, I’ll be waiting at the bottom to intervene. She is ruthless, but she won’t dare come close to me unless she completely snaps. Even without the Demon’s influence, my ink is quite close to his. She won’t risk getting tainted further.”**

 **“What** _are you waiting_ for?” Alice’s distorted voice suddenly shouts over the intercom. “Whatever you’re chattering about _can wait. Bring me my hearts, errand boy,_ **_I’m growing impatient.”_ **

Henry huffs, but leaves the lift and walks all the way up to her doors. He deposits the hearts in her little delivery box, and sure enough she commands him to return to the lift. Glancing back, he’s relieved to see that Sammy had already departed, and hopes the other man will stay safe.

He turns back to the door. “Why don’t you come with us?”

There is silence for a long, long time. He wonders if he’s going to get a response at all, but he does.

“You mean you’d have _me face the crowds_ **_looking like this?_ ** **You’re far more** lost than you thought, then. _I want to leave, I do!_ **_They’d kill me where I stand,_ **” she says, and he sighs.

“There must be some way to help you,” he says, because even though he might not like the Mad Angel, there’s nothing more he wishes he could do than add one more person to the list of people he might be able to help, or at the very least lay to rest in a meaningful way. 

He hears her sigh over the intercom. “Oh Henry, **_there is._ ** **Just not right now.** _Now return to the lift, while I’m_ still feeling generous.”

Henry sighs. Henry goes. There’s nothing else to be done. 

The gates to the lift slide closed behind him as he steps up onto it, and as they begin to ascend Boris lays his ears back at the nervous expression on Henry’s face. 

“Remember to hide,” he whispers to Boris as Alice begins to monologue. He steps in front of the wolf, pulling him into a hug as her giggles drift off and they begin to plummet to the depths of the Studio. Boris clings to him like a lifeline, and Henry continues to repeat to Boris that _he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he always is._

Then it all goes black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, it's good to be back on board!  
> The scene with the Projectionist is based loosely off of an actual in-game glitch I experienced where I somehow managed to get him stuck on the platform instead of roaming his maze.  
> I've also got big ideas now, so it's gonna be fun handling those.


	5. (i am left) unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old aches become new growth, and a moment of silence for those they've lost along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited some scenes in Ch. 4, added an additional scene inspired from Master_Torch_Master's kind comment, as well as fleshing out the scene with the Projectionist.  
> That said- I'm taking what I know of canon and throwing a whole lot of it out the window. I'm here to cause chaos and that's what I'll do.

Boris stands up inside the lift, swaying as his body struggles with the shock of impact. He looks down at Henry and feels the urge to stoop down and try to wake him up, but he remembers how insistent the man had urged him to hide as soon as he could stand. Glancing around briefly, he takes off down the hallway and turns to the right, towards Grant’s office. 

There’s a Bendy cutout directly ahead of him, and Boris gets the skin-crawling sensation of being watched. Ignoring it for the time being, he ducks into the only door that’s unlocked and swiftly locks it behind himself. Looking over the walls of the room, he feels his heart pound at the absolute madness slathered across each and every wall. There’s a bubbling puddle of ink on the desk within the room, and Boris frowns in distaste before he grabs the edge of it and slowly drags it towards the door to block it off. It’s difficult work to be quiet as he does it, but he manages to pull it all the way and sighs at the slightest bit of extra protection. The ink has dribbled off the edge of the desk, pooling in the floor. Nothing emerges from it, for which he’s thankful. 

The room was quite clearly the dwelling of yet another soul that had gone mad within the ink-fueled haze that invaded the minds of anyone who entered the studio. Henry had said this was Grant’s office, and Boris remembers when Henry had found an audio log of the man’s on Alice’s floor. Working with the Studio’s finances would have been a fast route to madness for _anyone,_ and that’s without the influence of the Ink. 

His train of thought is cut off when he hears the sound of a rageful scream, sounding out from about where the lift is. It sounds to him like Alice had come to collect, and Boris realizes with a start why Henry had pushed for him to hide. 

The wolf can hear the sound of heels clicking against the wooden floor outside the little room he’s in, and his ears lay back against his head as the footsteps come closer, closer…

They don’t make it to the door. Boris hears the voice of Sammy speaking up, stepping out from wherever it was he’d been hiding in the hallway and Boris hears Alice make a sound of disgust and what might be fear. He can’t make out the words, as Sammy keeps his voice low, but he does hear when she yells at him.

 **_“That Boris belongs to me!”_ **She screams out, and he feels his body trembled at the venom spraying out with each of her words. Even with the walls between her and him, the malice within her intentions pierces his very being.

He can only hope that Sammy was right about her being afraid of the Demon's Prophet. 

* * *

Outside in the hall, Sammy feels himself bristling at her disrespect for the other lives within the Studio, and her vile nature held an acrid tone. **“The only thing that belongs to** **_you_ ** **is the promise of a swift end if you keep this up.”**

She bares her teeth at him, rabid like some unholy beast. “Is _that a_ **threat?”**

 **“It depends. Do you feel threatened?”** He crosses his arms and stands up at his full height, and he knows with his mask in place he looks every bit the Prophet he is meant to be. He towers over her, and she steps back. If he still had a face, he’d be smirking. 

“You’ll regret this. _You really think Henry’s_ some kind of **hero?”** She hisses, and he growls and steps closer to her.

 **“He’s doing a whole hell of a lot more than you are,** **_Angel,_ ** **and if you know what’s best for you, you will slink back into your tower, lick your wounded pride, and you will leave Boris alone.”** His voice shakes, fire and regret winding through each pointed word. 

Sammy could feel his ink heating, rivulets running down his body and dripping onto the floor. Alice’s eyes widen as she sees the drops splattering onto the floor, knowing how easily it could damage her if he were to strike her. 

 **“I knew you, once. You were a good person. We were friends, in another time. But this? Whatever you’ve become, you’re not the Susie I knew,”** he grits out, taking another step towards her. She takes two more steps back.

 **“Don’t think that I don’t know it’s** **_you_ ** **forcing Alice’s hand in this. I’ve heard her cries, the part of you that’s her. Alice was kind. Alice was forgiving. She was an** **_angel.”_ **He punctuates the last word by slamming his fist into the wall, and ink splatters from the impact. 

Alice stumbles as she shuffles backwards, landing on her ass as he glares down at her. Her hands reach blindly for something to defend herself with, but the Studio mocks her plight and does not provide. Sammy makes no move to attack her, though, instead leaning his head against his fist where it’s curled against the wall. 

 **“You strive for perfection, you stray further and further from the path of** **_Holy Righteousness!_ ** **Your web frays at the edges, twisted little lamb abandoned. Frightened, furious, fated. He has no Forgiveness for you, for you have forsaken the sanctity of those your equal,”** he mutters, slipping down the steep edge that he’s worked so hard to pull himself away from. 

Sammy slams his fist against the wall again, groaning as his head aches from fighting between two trains of thought. He latches onto a solid anchor as Alice scrambles to her feet during his period of distraction, turning to take off. She would have to collect her Boris at another point in time. 

Before she could go far, however, she pauses as he calls out for her. 

 **“Do you remember… do you remember the day you started here?”** His voice is soft, thoughtful. Alice stares at him as he turns to face her. Her eyes narrow when he moves, but he’s only leaning himself against the wall as he puts a hand to his head. She tries to remember the day he speaks of, but she doesn’t remember much from Before. Only that Joey had replaced her with some upstart, and made her an offer she couldn’t refuse… So, she shakes her head. He lets out a weak chuckle. 

 **“You were so excited just to be there at all. You were a soft spoken doll, just sweet as can be. By the end of the day you already had everyone charmed. I knew the truth though,”** he pauses, laughing softly at the memory, **“and I also knew we’d be fast friends when you tripped on the stairs and said** **_fuck_ ** **so loudly the entire band stopped playing. That was the defining moment for me. Your magnum opus.”**

She doesn’t really remember it, but in the back of her mind she can hear a voice that sounds uncannily like the one speaking to her now, lighter than the one now, letting out peals of laughter that were as contagious as they were unexpected. Alice feels her chest constrict at the fleeting essence of a memory, and to her own surprise she feels a tear sliding down the untainted side of her face. 

Alice does the only thing reasonable, given the situation. She runs. 

Sammy watches her turn and flee, and sighs. He had seen the raw emotion on her face, and thinks that, even if only for a minute, he got through to her. Hoping against all odds, he wonders if it’s enough.

Turning and walking to the door of Grant’s office, he knocks lightly and tells Boris he can come out now. The sound of something sliding harshly against the floor is the only warning he gets before the door flings open and Boris is looking him over for any signs of injury.

 **“I am fine, Boris. She made no move towards me. You are alright yourself?”** he asks, and Boris nods with a tiny smile. Sammy is about to speak when both of them hear a groan echo down the hall from the lift. 

Boris and Sammy run towards it immediately, seeing a groggy Henry coming to just outside of the lift from where he’d managed to drag himself. When the man looks up and sees the two of them though, his attention is suddenly intensely focused. He… honestly, he looks like he might be about to cry. 

Forcing himself to stand, Henry walks over to Boris and immediately drags the surprised wolf into an almost crushing hug. As soon as he lets go, he hugs Sammy as well, which was even more unexpected. 

“You’re here. You’re both here,” he says, smiling so delightedly that Boris can’t help but smile as well and Sammy perks up a bit himself. 

Henry’s gaze quickly turns to concern when he sees how… drippy Sammy is. “Are you alright, Sammy?” 

The musician winces but nods. **“I am alright, it is simply a side effect of heightened emotions. The Angel and I had… a conversation. I kept slipping into the word of our Lord, and there I go, I’m doing it again right now.”**

Henry frowns, but Sammy just sighs before saying, in possibly the driest voice ever heard, **“She just brings out the best in me, you know.”**

It’s like a blast to the past, and Henry finds himself laughing at the sheer absurdity of the entire situation. He’s almost positive he heard Sammy say those exact same words about Susie back when he worked with the Studio. 

The trio make their way down the other end of the hallway towards the vaulted door, but not before Henry makes a stop in Grant’s office to pick up an item as well as dipping his head in a show of respect to the desk. He’d heard the audiolog too many times to need to play it, but he always feels a deep mourning when in the room. He walks back out of the room, pulling the door closed with a click.

When he reattaches the handle to the door and spins it open, Boris lays his ears back at the sight ahead of them, whereas Sammy only snorts. Henry has very little of a reaction, though to be fair he’s quite familiar with the scene already. 

Sammy climbs up onto the stage, looking into the faces of the beings. Not living or Lost Ones, just sculptures made from thick ink. He looks up at the smeared writing, _He will set us free._ Turning back to Henry, he snorts. 

 **“You think whoever put this here climbed up onto the statue to write it? Or did they have ladders made of ink too? Maybe they were super tall. These are the real questions, Henry, and no one is providing answers,”** he says, and Henry shakes his head with a wry smirk. 

From time to time, Henry had wondered the same thing. Having his idle thoughts put into words was enough to draw a chuckle from him, and he’s pleasantly surprised at how frequently he’s managed to find joy in little things this loop. He’s found a lot of joy in several big things as well, and he pats Boris on the shoulder as he walks by towards the library. There’s no point in playing the audio log, since he’s pretty sure he knows it by heart at this point. 

Sammy has no such restraints, however, and soon the jaded voice of Susie drifts out of its tinny speakers. The absolute loss of life and light in her tone is enough for Sammy to feel the phantom of a frown. He bows his head as it clicks off, but his grief is cut short by the room suddenly growing distorted and a thousand whispers scream within his head as books fly off the shelves and papers flutter madly. 

It’s over within a few seconds, and he puts a hand to his aching head to try and right himself. He hears a wheezing huff from Boris somewhere to his right, and a groan from the outer ring where Henry is. Boris walks past him towards Henry, swaying only slightly on his feet. Sammy follows as soon as he’s confident he won’t fall over entirely.

Henry himself is leaned over with his hands on his knees, gasping as he tries to right himself. His head is spinning dizzily, and a slight trickle of blood oozes from his nose as he wipes at his face. He’d been so caught up in the fact that Boris was alive, and that he and Sammy both were with him, he’d completely forgotten the violent visions this room always gave him. 

 **“Are you alright, Henry? Do you know what that was?”** Sammy asks, and Henry holds up a hand for him to wait for just a moment more. Once he’s gathered himself up enough, he turns to Sammy and Boris who are both looking at him expectantly. 

“To answer your first question, I’m fine. As for what it was, though, I’m not sure. All I know is that it happens each time I pass through here in previous loops. I didn’t realize it would be a shared experience, and I’m sorry it slipped my mind,” he apologizes to them. They both shake their heads at him, not upset. To be honest, they were more concerned than anything else. 

“There will be another place it happens soon, there’s a hallway… and I guess it’s lost spirits that aren’t in the Ink and don’t have a body either. At least, that’s all I can figure.” He wipes his nose once more, thankful the blood has stopped for now. For now, it’s the best answer he can give them. It’s the _only_ answer he can give them.

With that, they press on.

* * *

Bendy is back on the surface level, in the room with the dead Boris. He’s sitting with his back to the wall, head leaned back against it, good leg stretched out in front of him and the other curled beneath him. Propped up beside him is one of his own cutouts, one he’d dragged there himself just so he could see even slightly. 

It was not a sight he _wants_ to see, but rather one he believes he needs to. After all, he was there when this one was made. Bound, bleeding, and bruised he’d been as he’d fought with everything he had to stop him from being made. He hadn’t even been able to twitch. 

In his human-esque hand, he spins a ring of keys for a few turns before snatching them. Again. Again. A habit he’d picked up many a year ago from the first person he had considered calling a friend. Perhaps his only friend. 

Then this Boris, this lonely hurting wolf, had met the claws of the heretic. The bloodied angel. Bendy feels that familiar rage boil beneath his ink, but he fights it. This is no place for anger; this room is for grief and mourning and that alone. Reminiscing.

 **_You wouldn’t have liked me very much like this, friend…_ **he thinks to himself, and the edges of his permanent smile twitch just slightly.  The corpse does not respond. 

A lot of rage was to be found within his nonexistent heart, and the root of much of it was held within the center of this very room. Perhaps not the room itself, but for what it held. 

He snatches the keys as they spin again. Thunks his head against the wall to clear out the fog in his mind. Remembers the one singular time he ever stepped foot outside of the Studio, before Joey had placed wards on every window, door, wall, that kept him and everyone else trapped within. 

It had been Wally, then. He had snuck into Thomas’s office after hours, when the only people in the Studio had been those cramming for a deadline and the janitor himself. Maybe Norman, though no one ever knew when and where Norman was unless he showed himself.

* * *

_When the door opens, it looks up from where it had been staring blankly at the wall. It hadn’t been expecting someone right now, since Thomas had gone home hours ago and even Joey had drifted out of the studio at some point.  It hears the sound of keys spinning before he aura seeps into the room as the person steps in. It gets excited when it realizes it’s Wally coming to visit._

_Looking at the clock in the room, it sees the big hand on the twelve and the little hand was on the one. That meant it was one in the morning, since everyone else was gone. Wally had been teaching it how to tell time, that way it would always know when to look forward to seeing him. It hadn’t expected him now though!_

_“Hey little guy, you wanna go for a walk with me? We’re gonna get you outta here for a bit!” He keeps his silly voice quiet, but the shimmering light around him is bright and loud, excited._

_It stands up from its spot on the floor, shambling over to the man. Wally takes his oversized gloved hand in his own, peeking out the door and down the hallway before walking forward and leading the way. His violet light glitters and swirls within his core, and it thinks its beautiful. Everyone else’s light gets sharp when it’s near, but not Wally’s. That’s because Wally trusts it._

_There’s no one else in the halls, and it can’t hear any noise at all in the studio aside from the churning of the machine and the whir of everyday mechanisms._

_Wally comes to a stop, and it almost walks into him as he fiddles with a doorknob and it feels a burst of cool air hit its inky body from the now-open door. Its sense of smell and hearing is rushed as Wally glances around and pulls him out through the door, closing it behind them with a click._

_It’s like stepping into another world. The lights it’s used to seeing only around the occasional person it sees is_ everywhere, _the very air pulses with life and glitters and moves and dances._

 _It takes a step forward cautiously, in awe, wondering if maybe this is its imagination. Everything stays, and it looks down at Wally with an excited jitter. The janitor laughs softly as it tilts its head, and he pats its arm gently. “We’re outside the Studio. We’re on the backside, and we aren’t really close to many other buildings so there’s no risk of anyone seeing you. I figured you had to be tired of that office tho_ -whoa!” 

_It picks him up in an inky hug, and he laughs. When it puts him back down, he takes its hand again and leads him further outside, and they stop at something that’s apparently a picnic table. Wally sits down at the table, and it walks to the other side and sits down across from him._

_It feels the most like itself right at that moment than it ever has, and it thinks maybe even if no one else thinks it, no, thinks_ he _can be what he was meant to be, then being Bendy to Wally alone would be enough._

* * *

Bendy snatches the keys again with a sigh. He stands up, turning the cutout to face the wall and his blurred view of the room goes dark. Nodding once to the late Boris, he slinks through the ink down to the depths. 

As he goes, he makes a solemn promise to himself that, regardless of what he _has_ done, he will not follow in the steps of Joey Drew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the longest one I've written so far, and I've been writing it off and on since about 3 am this morning.  
> It was interesting writing the scene with Alice and Sammy, and I find I enjoyed it quite a lot.  
> The scene with Bendy was also enjoyable to write, and I just love the idea of Wally and Bendy being bros before Joey went COMPLETELY ape shit.
> 
> Also! I ALWAYS accept constructive criticism, so if anyone has anything they'd like to point out or things I could add in/do better feel free to suggest them!


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